


A Deserved Fate

by acruxys



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Guns, Horses, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29799009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acruxys/pseuds/acruxys
Summary: Arthur gets some sweet revenge.This takes place after the scene where Arthur is sexually assaulted. There’s nothing graphic here, just him having a bath and then critically injuring the man from the house in the swamp outside Saint Denis. Like he deserves.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	A Deserved Fate

Arthur Morgan woke up to a throbbing pain in his skull, but also more unpleasant and alarming places. In the mud in Lemoyne, but a jog from Saint Denis. He hissed and winced as he steadied himself against a slimy tree, standing slowly. A soft snort alerted him to the Cremello Dutch Warmblood, Buell, perking his ears and trodding closer. Arthur groaned, reaching for the stallion’s muzzle, then his neck to steady himself. The horse had grown much more patient since he’d taken him off the old veteran. He hadn’t been thrown in atleast a month, which was progress to say the least. The sickly man hobbled to the horse’s side, lifting himself weakly onto the saddle with an iron grip on the horn. He hissed weakly and began a rough fit of coughing from the exertion. Damn bastard. His name was Sonny. That’s all Arthur cared to remember of the day before. He took the reins and pulled gently, and gave a light kick to Buell’s sides, and the horse began a slow pace of walking. Arthur steered him to the road, out of the muck and weeds. He wondered how Buell managed to find him, or if that bastard had lead him out here in some semblance of pity. He doubted it. He sighed and patted the horse’s neck, clearing his throat. “Thank you, boy.. Dunno where i’d be if you weren’t here,” he spoke to the horse, who turned back one ear as Arthur spoke, and Arthur could swear the animal was listening and understanding as it shook its head. He rode Buell to Saint Denis, and hitched him outside an Inn before giving him some feed and water and heading inside, broken and battered. He paid for a deluxe bath, hobbling roughly down the hall into the bath room. The young lady in there flashed her pretty brown eyes at him as she left the room, the tub filled to the brim with steaming hot water and suds. Arthur stripped, not daring to look at himself in the mirror before he stepped into the tub and settled in. He gave a great heave of relief, the hot water melting some of the soreness away quickly. Another lady, assumedly, knocked on the closed door, offering her services to help him bathe. “I’m alright, thank ya,” he drawled, wanting anything but to be touched by anyone at the moment. He relaxed in that bath until the water ran cold, and then he paid for another one, scrubbing the muck and mud from himself finally in the fresh water. He massaged his scalp, getting the dirt and most of the grease out before he stood to dry off and get dressed. He went out once more to check on Buell before he headed back in for the night, needing a bit more comfort than a potato sack on the cold, wet ground tonight. He locked the door. Then checked it again. And again before he undressed for bed. Then again before he laid down. When he finally laid down, he laid on his side, staring at the door knob. Eventually he succumbed to a thankfully, dreamless sleep. 

In the morning, the aching had subsided, aside from the general ache that comes along with a lethal disease. The back of his head was still throbbing from the hit. He shuddered and pushed it out of his mind as he got up and got dressed. Getting downstairs was a bit more of a struggle than going up them, and he clung to the support rail. The innkeep eyed him warily as he came downstairs. He thanked him quietly, placing a generous tip on the service desk before heading out the front doors. Buell was still there, and he perked his ears when he saw Arthur exit the building. He nickered softly, nudging the man with his nose. Arthur pet him, reaching into his pack and pulling out a couple of wild carrots, feeding each one to the horse slowly and lovingly. He stroked Buell’s neck as he climbed up into the saddle again. He started riding slowly out of Saint Denis, seeing the dirt road that lead him to the house hidden in the trees and bushes. Arthur steered Buell towards the place, and the stallion snorted stubbornly, refusing the directions at first. “C’mon boy, got some business to take care of,” he said, malice in his rough voice. Buell snorted again, stomping his hoof a couple times before conceding and going through the trees. He saw the fucker sitting in his damned rocking chair, just like the other day.

Arthur heard his voice. He must have recognized Buell. “You again?! I don’t want you no more! Get the hell outta here!” Sonny screamed, getting up from his chair, running into his house and slamming the door. Arthur felt all his sickness leave his body, adrenaline picking up as he slid off of Buell. All the soreness was gone, he felt nothing but malice and rage. He went up the stairs to the house with no problem, kicking the damn door right open. “Shit..!” Sonny cursed. Arthur drew his sawed-off. “Come on, now, baby-“ the piece of shit pleaded. Arthur aimed his sawed-off at his head, sneered, then aimed lower. The loud gunshot rang in his ears, and the next thing that rang was Sonny’s shrill screaming. He’d shot him in the groin “Try it now, you lowdown piece of shit,” Arthur snarled. He glanced to the hanging lamp on the wall and then fired at it as well. A fire caught, and he turned to walk out of the house. Down the steps. To Buell. He mounted the horse and turned him away from the house, walking slowly. The screams continued, and the fire raged.


End file.
